


An Interruption

by NahaFlowers



Series: Flint is Eleanor's bi dad [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Eleanor loves her bi dad even when he interrupts her having a moment, F/F, Flint is Eleanor's bi dad, Gen, also super awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 05:23:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NahaFlowers/pseuds/NahaFlowers
Summary: Eleanor has been flirting with Max for some time. They seem to be finally making progress, until they're interrupted by Captain Flint. It's not all bad though. Eleanor doesn't think she's ever seen Flint contrite before.





	An Interruption

**Author's Note:**

> I love this friendship on the show, so here's some Flint being a supportive (if super awkward) bi father figure to Eleanor.

Eleanor had been wondering about Max for ages. At first it had just been an idle fantasy, to stave off the boredom while Charles was away at sea (because God knows how he’d react if she slept with someone else). The pretty girl at the brothel, whose kohl lined eyes were always perfectly made up, whose French accent was tantalisingly appealing in its freshness, its difference from the rough pirates she spent her days (and nights) surrounded by.

It was said that she brought more to the brothel, both in the way of money and of secrets, than any of the other whores. It was also rumoured that she wouldn’t let any of the men actually fuck her, and the former rumour was why the brothel madame allowed the latter. 

Whether this was true or not, Eleanor did not know, and at the start, she didn’t particularly care. She just enjoyed the fancy of sneaking into Max’s boudoir one night and going down on her, making Max come with her tongue and having her return the favour. 

Eleanor had felt this way about women as long as she had felt that way about men. Perhaps even longer. She distantly recalled a childhood playmate, she couldn’t have been more than four or five when she’d kissed her. She wasn’t sure if the sensation of the other girl kissing her back had been real or imaginary, but it felt amazing.  
Liking girls didn’t particularly bothered her, the way it might have had she lived and grown up in England, but it was also something she never really got a chance to act on. Living on an island full of men didn’t exactly provide many opportunities. 

 

When she eventually told Charles it was over and unceremoniously dumped him (not without protest, but he went in the end, even if he didn’t exactly accept it), she began to be a lot more interested in whether Max would be interested in her. Whether Max was even interested in women in the first place.

They began spending a lot more time together, by Eleanor’s design. She framed it as friendship, a wish to get to know her better, her need for some female friendship in such a masculine environment. There was a knowing look in Max’s eyes sometimes, though, that suggested to Eleanor that she wasn’t fooled.

However, their relationship remained...mostly platonic, aside from a few little touches and brushes of hands here and there, which could easily have been accidental. Yeah, right, thought Eleanor. She was teaching Max to read, since the girl had never got a proper education and knew only the basics. Of course, this gave her ample opportunity to lean in close to Max while she was reading, to guide her hand over the shape of the letters, her own fingers fluttering on Max’s wrist. 

She was breathing the correct pronunciation of a word into Max’s ear, a little closer than necessary, when Max looked up, sharply. Eleanor let out an involuntary gasp and cursed herself for being so obvious. Max’s kohl-lined eyes narrowed, and then a small, satisfied smile graced her lips. Eleanor grinned back, a little ruefully, then narrowed her focus and leaned forward to meet Max’s lips with hers.

The door banged open.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Eleanor drew away from Max to see who had interrupted them, so she could give them a piece of her mind for entering without knocking. She saw it was Captain Flint.

“What do you want?” she said tersely.

“Sorry,” said Flint. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back later…” He loitered in the doorway, looking supremely awkward, quite unlike the Flint that Eleanor had come to know. There was no insinuation in his words, just the awareness that he had interrupted a moment between them and clearly wishing he had left them in peace. Eleanor felt a twinge of fondness for the man.

She sighed. “It’s alright.”

“Yes, I was just leaving anyway,” said Max, so clearly a lie that Flint quirked his lips, clearly preventing himself from laughing.

“Come back tonight?” asked Eleanor, feeling bereft all of a sudden. What if they never had another chance? “We haven’t finished the chapter yet.”

Max just about smirked. “Of course. Good afternoon, Captain.”

Flint made a noise of acknowledgement in his throat, but was looking shrewdly at Eleanor.

Once Max had left, Eleanor sat down at her desk and beckoned for Flint to do the same.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” she said, thinking it best to get down to business and leave the embarrassing interruption behind them.

Flint, however, was not so ready to let go. He was rubbing his beard, thoughtfully. 

“What?” she said, flatly.

“You and Max,” he said, a little hesitantly.

“What about us?”

“You’re…together.” It was only half a question, but Eleanor felt obliged to answer it anyway.

“Well, that’s certainly what I was hoping. As long as you haven’t scared her off.”

Flint looked contrite. “I’m sorry.”

Eleanor snorted. “You’re never sorry.”

“I am, now. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“Well, maybe try knocking next time.” Eleanor narrowed her eyes. “What’s different?”

Flint’s eyes flickered up to meet Eleanor’s, like a startled rabbit. It was so strange to see him like this, jumpy and apologetic when usually he was so firm and brusque, almost abrasive. 

“What?”

“Well, you’re not the type to apologise. About anything. And certainly not about interrupting me, whatever I might be doing. They shared an amused glance.

“Well, it’s not my fault that your taste in women is far better than your taste in men,” he said, deflecting.

Eleanor was not to be put off so easily, however. “And you’d know, would you?”

“Maybe,” Flint finally conceded. Eleanor sat back, satisfied to have gotten even that answer out of this man so elusive about his past. “Look, all I mean is that I don’t want to get in the way of you and her. Quite the opposite, in fact.” He shifted a bit uncomfortably before Eleanor saw fit to put him out of his misery.

“Well, thank you. For what it’s worth, I think you provided a much less troublesome interruption than most other men walking through that door would have.”

“Mm. Imagine if it had been Vane,” said Flint, finally back on even footing. They shared a conspiratorial grin.

“Alright, then. Let’s get down to business,” said Eleanor.


End file.
